


the way to a man's heart...

by vannral



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Banter, Dialogue Heavy, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Pre-Slash, kind of, playful bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vannral/pseuds/vannral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically Len breaks in to check on Barry, Barry's very done with this whole thing, and they drink hot chocolate. And exchange banter, because that's what heroes and their nemeses apparently do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the way to a man's heart...

**Author's Note:**

> I...don't know. This got out of hand really quickly. They're both chatty bastards in my head, I can't handle them. Not really too much plot going on.

Barry’s had a pretty awful week. New super-weird metas, like, out of _nowhere,_ plus work and plus _everything -_

_And now this._

    "Evening, Barry." 

    "Okay, whoa, _what the hell?"_

This is getting _so_ old.

Snart's sitting in Barry's bedroom. Just like that. Because apparently that one Christmas meeting wasn't fiasco enough, Snart has decided to pay another visit. 

And Barry's in his pajamas. Because apparently it goes like that nowadays. At least in Barry’s life. Yeah, he's not too impressed with this, either.

    "Still no marshmallows, Barry. Tsk tsk. Disappointing", Snart shakes his head, but his eyes are still fixed on Barry with wry amusement, just like only Snart can. "Nice pajamas." 

Barry refuses to be ashamed. He’s had a hard day. Snart can just deal with his amazing pajamas.  

     "Yeah, so what? They're comfy and awesome and not made of my suit, so yeah, I'll wear 'em. What are you doing here?" 

    "So suspicious", Snart clicks his tongue and gets up to look out of the window. “Wanted to drop in.”

 _Okay,_ Barry thinks. So it’s _this_ kind of thing. Kind of. Snart's not usually chatty, so this might take a while. After a few seconds, Barry decides to grab the bull by the horns, so he blurts out: 

    "Want some hot chocolate?" 

    "That cheap stuff you have? No, think I'll pass."  

    "Hey, don't be rude, it's not _cheap._ Whatever, I'll take a cup, soo...you can explain what you’re doing here? You know, _again?_ ”

Snart doesn’t grace that with an answer, so somehow, they end up in Barry's kitchen. He's slightly surprised that Snart actually follows him there, instead of - whatever the alternative was.

    "No longer living under the good detective's roof?" he hears Snart drawl somewhere behind him. 

    "Yeah, obviously. It was getting a little...crowded, I guess? This is still nice. Seriously, no hot chocolate?" 

    "If you keep insisting, why not. Don’t make it too hot." 

    "God, you're so annoying", Barry snorts, a breathy laugh bubbling out of him.

    "One of my many virtues, Scarlet." 

Always an answer. It's almost comforting. This is so _familiar_ , easy banter, they both _know_ it so well, and it makes ice around Barry's lungs crack, _melt_. Makes it easier to breathe. Easier to _be._

So Barry pours them hot chocolate (it’s maybe kinda cheap, but Snart doesnt have to know he’s right), and sits beside the table. Snart follows his lead, settles in a chair, like he owns the thing, and eyes the mug. 

    "Sorry, the reindeer one is at Joe's", Barry says.

A small grin tugs Snart's lips. "Cute." 

    "Not really, it's kind of creepy." 

    "Not talking about the mug, _Barry_."  

    "'Course not", Barry says a little embarrassed and decides to direct this whole mess of a conversation entirely elsewhere, _entirely_ ignoring that treacherous kind of jolt in his stomach that definitely _didn’t_ happen. "So, uh, why are you here?" 

Snart doesn't look at him, turns the mug with careful, precise fingers. 

    "Didn't lie, wanted to see you", he says, still not looking at him, because it’s probably more interesting than Barry’s face. Even if it’s not the reindeer mug.   

    "Okay?" Barry says slowly and frowns. "Uh, why?" No answer. It's not really that surprising, but Barry has special kind of patience for Snart. "Snart?" he tries again gently. 

    "Do I need a reason to provide a little excitement in your life?"

    "Probably a few, but I've got excitement enough without you scaring the crap out of me. No offense." 

    "Hmm. None taken." 

Silence. It's not exactly uncomfortable or awkward, but Snart shifts in his seat, eyebrows knitting together, like he’s almost... _frustrated_. 

    "Barry." 

    "Yeah?"  

Snart's gaze is unblinking, like colourless glass. "You okay?" he asks bluntly, just like that, almost defensively, like it's wrenched reluctantly from his throat.

Barry startles, his eyes widening. "Uh, what? Yeah, I'm okay." 

    "Heard you were having rough time with some...newcomers." 

    "What? No, wait - what? No, I'm not. Well, kind of, yeah, maybe, because apparently Central City attracts weirdness, or maybe that's just me, so - yeah. But I'm okay." Barry hesitates, wondering if his own question is too...bold to ask. _What the hell, screw subtlety. "_ Were you worried?" he asks tentatively.

Snart rolls his eyes. "No." 

 _Pfft, yeah, well, that's expected._ _  
_

_"_ You know, I don't think Arrow's got his nemesis checking on him", Barry points out. Snart grunts something in response, and unexpected warmth blooms in Barry’s chest. "Thanks for asking, Snart."  _  
_

    "Can't have you quitting the game", is Snart's automatic reply.

    "Pfft, _no_. I'll catch you, don't worry."  

    "I have absolutely _no_ doubts about it, Red." 

Barry relaxes slightly. This feels good, this - this he can handle, no big deal. Sure, it's _Snart_ , but this is...different. Good different. _Familiar._ He gets up and proceeds to rummage through the cupboards.

    "Don't bother looking, I checked", Snart remarks, his gaze following him.  

    "'Course you did, and no, you didn't find my awesome secret stash." Barry shows him a bag of marshmallows with smug victory. 

Snart's expression is distinctively torn between unimpressed and amused.

    "Guess I didn't look hard enough", he drawls. 

    "Yep, totally didn't. Want some? Seein' you mention them like, really often." 

    "Hmm. Doesn't feel the same without the mug." 

    "You're awful. Eat a marshmallow." Barry throws a marshmallow at him.

    "My, my, getting a little forceful now, Barry. Careful."

    "Why? You _broke in_ here.” 

    "Call it 'treading on thin ice'."

    "Aaaand there's the pun. Oh my _God."_

Barry nearly giggles, and he can't help, but to beam at this man. This strange man, who wears a parka, uses silly ice puns and who is _good_ \- despite whatever _he_ says, but he is, and Barry's still kind of glad he's here. In his kitchen. Doing this whatever they’re doing.  

    "Thanks for asking”, Barry murmurs, still softly smiling. 

Snart looks up, his expression neutral, but Barry sees his gaze is fixed on him. He feels hot flush spread on his cheeks _, hot_ and weirdly _shy._  

    "You already told me that", Snart finally replies. 

    "Yeah, well, it doesn't hurt to say it again."

And he means it. 

Finally Snart shakes his head. "Don't know what to do with you, Scarlet."

    "Uh, what?" 

    "You're almost making it hard to shoot at you." He sounds amused.  

    "Wow, that'd be great. 'Cause getting shot by the cold gun isn't all that fun. Just saying, it hurts like hell. Uh, take another marshmallow." 

Snart takes a marshmallow, but doesn't eat it; he just looks at it. "You're too soft, Barry", he says and it doesn't sound scolding. 

    "Just 'cause I offered you marshmallows?" 

    "Not talking about the marshmallows, _sweetheart."_

Startled, Barry's eyes snap wide open, and he swallows thickly. "Oh. Okay?"  

    "Such a mystery", Snart continues, and now, his eyes drill into Barry's. "Makes me wonder how many people are ready to tear you into pieces."

Barry doesn't know what to answer, how to answer. It’s probably a lot, honestly, but then again, that’s not what _this_ is about, not really, _and they both know it_. 

     "But you're not one of those" he points out quietly.  

Silence. 

    "Don't want to kill you", is Snart's reply. "You make things...interesting."  

    "I hope it's a little more than that." 

    "So your record shows, but we’ll see."

Relief floods back into Barry, and he relaxes. He shouldn't be surprised, this is such a weird conversation, _weird evening, weird everything,_ but in the same time, he takes comfort in it. (He's kind of scared to wonder what it makes him, though.) 

Finally, Snart gets up. 

    "Well, that was fun", he drawls. 

    "Yeah. Except the scaring thing, that wasn't fun at all, and seriously, don’t do it again. Call or something."  

Snart snorts, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips. "Where’s the fun in that? Take care of yourself, Barry", he says, sounding only a little patronising. "I have no use for stealing, if there's no one to make it fun." 

Barry grins. "Wow, keep telling yourself that, Snart, maybe you’ll believe it one day.” 

    “That again?”

    “You're a good person."  You know, in case Snart _forgot._

    "Or not." 

    "Definitely yes."

Snart rolls his eyes and heads for the front door - but he pauses, hand on the doorknob. "Keep your head down, kid." 

    "Sure. Right back at'cha", Barry says warmly, crossing arms on his chest. "Don't kill anyone on your way out." 

    "Yeah, yeah, I know. Be seeing you." 

And with that, he leaves.

Barry wonders what the hell kind of an evening this is, but he resists an urge to grin like an idiot. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome.  
> vannral.tumblr.com


End file.
